


Boy, oh boy.

by Jakob



Series: Evan and Connor, oh no. [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Contains talk of suicide, Evan's only mentioned, M/M, POV Connor, connor being connor tbh, connor doesnt ever actually speak, evan too, i was bored, this is just a drabble, this sucks tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakob/pseuds/Jakob
Summary: Connor Murphy was not expecting his necklace to burn when he bumped into Evan Hansen after a quiet but lousy morning.





	Boy, oh boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first work on here, but not my first fanfiction. It was mostly a drabble, actually, but I decided fuck it and here's this. I may continue, and if you want me to, please comment below saying so!!

**nearly everyone is born with a necklace, a charm on it, too. only there to serve as a clue, some were disappointed as their charm rusted, and their soulmate died, and others, born without them, lived free of romance.**

**connor murphy has a pine tree.**

* * *

 

A slight chirping of birds and some very aggravated barking from a very aggravated dog was all it took to wake the eldest Murphy sibling, since, in all honesty, he hadn't been sleeping. All night, he'd been losing himself in the watercolours, violet yelling and cyan tears, the rope curling into a perfect noose, a suicide painted clear as day in art, despite having no victim. Perhaps today, the first day of senior year in highschool, will not be as terrible as all other days.

Rolling himself out of bed, the teen stretches; it's lazy and slow, as if he were a feline only just awaking from a nap. He'd slept in his clothes from the day before, causing his back to itch and his shirts to leave a read mark on his neck. He noted, briefly in his bathroom mirror, whilst brushing his teeth, how that mark, despite it being a bright red, matched the purplish black bruises that wrapped around his front, like two hands, large and ugly and never once disappearing.

Maybe the painting, the only good thing coming from him, coupled with all the shouts, both violet and scarlet, were not a good thing. And, just maybe, he should wait just one more day before creating a reality with his watercolours. Besides, it was tiring, having to fetch makeup to hide himself at times. It was even worse that he was missing his favourite colour- purple. He really needed more. Of both. Hiding the smarting injuries he'd recieve everyday was annoying, and shading was much harder without his darkest colour. He didn't much like the black. It was soft, whereas his purple was mighty ad deep. Maybe he was getting too invested in colours.

He changes only his shirt, deciding anything else he wore was clean enough. Whilst without bearing anything, he'd be distracted by his necklace. The stupid thing, silver and glowing, lovely as all others, bothered him to no end. Made him see red, if he were to put it how he wished. His bookbag doesn't hold much, he notices. It's too light when he picks it up. Though he would never read them, he shoved a couple of textbooks to balance the weight, then slung the bag over his shoulder.

" _Connor, sweetie, come for breakfast!_ "

Cynthia had always been a bother. He loved her, of course, because what kind of son does not love his mother? However, her continuous perkiness, and her faking glee was too much. The Basement wasn't too bad, so being grounded for skipping out on breakfast was a valid option. Then he'd be hungry all day, though, and that was never fun. So, trudging down the spiral staircase into their living room (which, fortunately enough, connected to the dining room and thus shortened his trip) he threw himself into a chair. Zoe was not up yet, and neither Larry, so this was a beloved peaceful time between him and his mother that was greatly appreciated.

He had toast and an apple, heading out early just as his sister began to drag herself down the stairs, Larry behind her. He bid farewell only to his mother, and before anyone could question him, he fled from the house. As he passed the roses and daffodils carefully planted near one another, but so that they didn't overwhelm the other, he fiddled with his necklace. It gleamed, but did not burn as said it would when he found his other half. Tucking the silver jewelry away, he scoffed. His own sister feared him, so who on earth would like him? He'd been surprised, when told the truth. Curious, even, wondering what his charm would be on his partner's necklace. He now saw it as tedious, though, the idea of living with someone all his life.

The walk to school was uneventful, meaning that people gawked and pointed at him, laughed, too, but never approached. He liked it this way. Nobody to care about. Sure, he got lonesome, and tired, and hated the silence sometimes, and the violent, bright white and rose coloured screaming in his head when it became too much. But he could say, with confidence, he liked it. It seemed to like him, as well, sticking around. Thanks to fate, he could stay alone.

Connor had assumed that he knew what would happen if he arrived early. He didn't think he'd bump into a blue boy, who he always assumed had a beige and boring personality, not a baby blue stutter and a pine green grin, a golden necklace, hardly hidden, presenting an angry bear kind of thing with a paintbrush in its maw. And he definitely did not think that this time, of all times, a burning feeling would flare up in his chest, and the silver tucked so carelessly into his shirt would burn his skin, leaving him to widen his eyes, especially as the blue boy gasped.

He hadn't expected this boy, who snuck up on him without even meaning it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos and whatever the fuck else is appreciated.


End file.
